Cassandra's Gift
by Wrightless Small
Summary: A deadly secret hides in the dark bowels of The Ministry of Magic...  A new and evil enemy rises from the ashes...  A young girl is about to discover her destiny...  Her powers...  Her heritage...  and her tragic legacy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Running late

Tonight the Ministry of Magic was silent. The only sounds were the soft crackling of the fireplaces, the '_drip, drip'_ of the fountain and the various snorts and grunts of the old ministers of magic as they slept in their portraits. In an hour or two the great hall would be full of wizards and witches. Hundreds of them would be pouring in through the fireplaces and the air would be full of the pops of people apparating. But until then there was only silence.

Suddenly one of the fireplaces sprang to life with a sudden whoosh. Out of the emerald flames stepped a skinny man with messy black hair and glasses. He gave an almighty yawn and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He ran his fingers though his hair, trying to tidy it up a bit. Eventually, he gave up on looking respectable and began to walk towards the golden gates at the end of the hall.

He passed the security desk where the overnight security guard was taking a nap and stepped into one of the lifts. "Level one," announced the voice of the elevator. The lift doors closed with a satisfied swish and, with a shudder, the lift began to move upwards. He glanced at his watch. Damn, he was fifteen minutes late. Mr Larle was going to kill him...

"You're late, Mr Potter," a deep voice thundered, as Harry entered the office. "I'm sorry sir," Harry began to explain, "It just I didn't get much warning and what with the kids and everything..."

Harry pulled up a chair and sat down at the large wooden desk, with clawed feet on the ends of the legs. Mr Larle's grey eyes glared at Harry like he was the piece of filth on the bottom of his shoe. Harry would have been offended if he didn't know that Mr Larle treated everyone like this. You see Mr Larle was Harry's boss, a man of very few words, a heavy smoker, and very, very scary. When Kingsley Shacklebolt was made Minister of Magic, Mr Ignatius Larle had been 'imported' from Scotland. Just looking at him confirmed he was most definitely a senior Auror. He wore an eye patch over one eye and a thin silver scar ran from the edge of the other eye to the corner of his mouth; he dressed like a soldier wearing khaki shirts and combats under his black cloak, his greying hair was slicked back in a ponytail. Mr Larle was also a stickler for tidiness and organisation. Someone, Harry was sure, that Uncle Vernon would approve of (Well apart from the whole being a wizard thing.)

There was an awkward silence in the room as Mr. Larle lit a fat cigar with the tip of his wand; he then sucked in deeply before exhaling a large cloud of indigo smoke, he then addressed Harry. "Can you tell me the exact location of Sirius Black august 1994?" He fixed Harry with a cold stare, almost daring him to lie.

"Um...err," Harry wracked his brains, trying to remember the summer before his fourth year. When he had been receiving letters from Sirius, "Somewhere tropical I think, with lots of exotic birds. Why?" Harry was confused. Why did Mr Larle want to know his dead god-fathers past whereabouts?

"Because it's the reason why you are in work at 5 o'clock in the morning," Mr Larle barked, tossing a file to Harry. Harry opened the folder and began to skim through it. It was a profile on a young girl.

"Why are you giving me this to read?" he asked quizzically.

"Carry on Mr Potter,"Larle replied cryptically.

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked back at the file. Suddenly his eyes widened with shock, "She blew up a house," He then added weakly "When she was three."

"Her first sign of magic," Mr Larle began to explain, "It happened when Voldemort was last powerful. From what we can tell two Death Eaters came to the house that she and her mother were staying at. They were either trying to recruit them or kill them. From what we heard from the Muggle neighbours her mother put up a fight, but she was overpowered and killed. Then they turned to the girl." He stubbed out his cigar on the desk, grinding the ashes into the wood. "She killed one Death Eater and left the other one with severe burns. By the time the authorities got there the house was in ruins." He leant back in his leather chair, reached for another cigar, lit it and watched Harry with eagle eyes, analysing his next move.

"So," Harry said "Do you want me to tell her she's a witch because we're both orphans or because our parents died under similar circumstances? Surely, it would be better for say a teacher to approach her. Neville Longbottom was in a similar situation..."

"MR POTTER YOU WILL NOT BECOME A SUCCESSFUL AUROR IF YOU DO NOT READ YOUR MEMOS PROPERLY!" Mr Larle yelled stabbing his meaty finger down on the file, Harry quickly read where he was pointing.

_Name: Cassandra Lily Black _

'No,' Harry thought, his mind racing 'no, it can't be,"

_Birth: 7th April 1995 _

_Mother: Arabella Rose Addison_

_Father: unknown_

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. If Sirius had had a daughter...then he noticed something was scrawled beside _unknown._

_Sirius Black _

That was impossible! Harry read it again.

_Sirius Black_

Harry looked up at Mr Larle, "Who? Where? How? "

Mr Larle face broke into a fishy smile "You would only need when and why and you would be able to write a perfect essay according to Ms McGonagall. You see Mr Potter, Arabella was an old flame of Sirius Blacks." He leaned towards Harry "and it just so happened that in the summer of 1994 she was staying somewhere tropical. With lots and lots of exotic birds" he gave one last puff on a cigarette, sending a cloud of smoke into Harrys face. "So you see Mr Potter, as you are a trained Auror, and Sirius Blacks godson, you're the perfect man to tell his daughter that she's a witch"

...

Far away from the Ministry of Magic another person was late to work. He hurried along a dark corridor, checking his watch. "Oh centaur's bollocks," he swore. Suddenly he took a sudden turn down a stone staircase and came to a door. He knocked, three times, and the door swung open.

The room inside was covered in scrumptious wall - hangings and ornate, antique furniture. In the middle of the room was a large high- backed chair. Only the occupants hand was visible, dabbing a paintbrush in a paint pallet. "Y-y-your highness," The man stammered to the chair, making a clumsy bow. "You're late again, Goyle." A voice like sweet honey or maybe wind chimes trilled. The man shuddered. The figure laid down the paintbrush and picked up her wand. She began to twirl it in her hand, seeing this, Goyle began to tremble, his face turning a grey-green.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry my lady. It's just I got caught in a..." Goyle's excuses were cut off as the figure waved her wand lazily.

"I don't want the morning traffic report darling. I want to know about the girl." The sweet voice said impatiently and with another wave of her wand Goyle could speak again.

"Our spy at the ministry has told that they are sending Harry Potter to tell her." He spat out as quickly as he could.

"Ah yes dear Mr Potter," the voice said quietly "I was wondering when we would meet again. You can go now Goyle." She said more loudly "And do try not to be late next time."

"Of course my lady I promise I won't be late" Goyle said bowing as he backed away towards the door.

"Now Goyle we don't want you making empty promises. You need some incentive," the beautiful voice scolded.

Goyle stopped abruptly "What do you mean my lady?" He asked confused... Then realisation dawned on him.

"No, no please, my lady, I beg of you," he cried

"_Crucio." _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Cassandra woke with a start, her heart racing and body drenched in sweat, as if she had been running a marathon. She looked over to the bed on the other side of the room where her roommate Lori was still snoring peacefully. Kicking off her sticky sheets, she sat up rubbing her eyes. She tried to remember the nightmare that she had been having. She remembered running, running, running for her life…. And something closing in behind her: a dark figure, a shadow.

And there was something else...A huge, black hellhound. Cassandra didn't know if it had been chasing her or protecting her, or just running beside her. All she could remember was it eyes. Huge pools of blackness that pierced you soul, turned it inside out, had a good rummage around before throwing it back again.

Yet they had seemed so familiar...

Her hand brushed against something furry on her bed and for a split second she thought it was the hound, but then she laughed at herself. It was just her stuffed toy dog Snuffles. Cassandra shook her head, she was being stupid. It was just a silly nightmare; she had never seen the dog before.

She squeezed Snuffles to her chest, burying her face in his worn, patchy black fur. He was the one of the only things she really owned that wasn't second hand or charity. She had had him for as long as she could remember: he had been there when Shannon Dawson had framed her for the graffiti in the girl's toilets, he had been there when some of the other girls had thought it would be funny to cut off her hair while she slept, he had been there when she had got expelled from her first school and her second and third. He had even been there on the night she was dumped outside this sad excuse for a care home, wrapped in a black blanket, clutching Snuffles to her chest.

Cassandra got up and walked over to her window - she needed some fresh air. Forcing the window she managed to get it to open an inch or two. She sighed. All the windows at St Augusta's Home for Distressed Girls were sealed, probably to stop the 'distressed girls' escaping. Cassandra leaned her feverish head against the cool glass. 'Then again' thought Cassandra 'it could be worse, some of the other girls had bars on the windows.'

_Distressed girls_. Cassandra smirked. That didn't cover half of it: at St Augusta's they had arsonists, punks, chavs, kleptomaniacs, psychopaths, addicts, neurotics, and just plain loons, girls who delight in bullying and picking on the weakest and the weirdest. Unfortunately Cassandra fitted into that description perfectly. With her long, wild, black hair, her large, piercing jade-green eyes, her 'odd' dress sense and hot temper, the young girl stood out a mile.

She stared down into the street below. Most of the houses were decrepit and boarded up; the only source of light came from a dim amber streetlight. Suddenly she heard a commotion in one of the side alleys, loud crashing, banging and...Growling? Cassandra immediately thought of the big, black dog. Her heart started hammering so hard she was surprised it didn't burst out her chest. Her hand gripped the windowsill so hard her knuckles turned bone white.

After a minute, a hissing, spitting, feline figure shot out of the alley. Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief, it was only a cat. _Why was she being so paranoid?_ It wasn't just the dog; she'd been having this feeling for a while, jumping at the slightest thing, as if she knew something big was coming...but what?

She wiped her sweaty forehead. The hot, stuffy summer nights they had been having hadn't been helping her nightmares. _Her nightmares. _Cassandra had been having them for as long as she could remember: nightmares so vivid and _frightening. _Full of half-formed beings, cloaked figures and bloodcurdling screams.And the worst thing was...sometimes they became real.

Because Cassandra had talents. Not ordinary talents like acting or knitting or sport. Strange talents. She could move things without touching them, she could change the colour of objects by thought, she sensed what animals were thinking and feeling, and she could even occasionally control people. Stuff happened around her that she couldn't explain. This had been happening since she was young, and her powers were growing stronger as she got older. Barely a day went by without an _incident_ happening. And it scared her so much.

Cassandra stood up from her crouching position and went back to bed. Sleep, that's what she needed, a good night's sleep. She pulled her sheets around her, till she was wrapped up in a dark, quiet cocoon, her own little world where no one could hurt her. Praying for a dreamless, dogless sleep, she closed her eyes and laid her head on the pillow.

...

Below her window, a shadow stepped out of the alley. It looked up at the window; it might have stayed there for a minute or maybe an hour, before walking away, blending into the darkness of the night...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGRH," a piercing shriek shattered Cassandra's peaceful sleep, groaning she peered out of her duvet cocoon. She wasn't worried, probably one of the screamers throwing a hissy fit because their straighteners wasn't working/somebody had eaten the last low fat yogurt/she'd broken up with her boyfriend. AGAIN. Cassandra surveyed her surroundings she saw Lori was still sleeping, (that girl could sleep though a hurricane, an AC/DC concert AND a zombie apocalypse). Giving a huge yawn she gave a cat like stretch and got out of bed. "C'mon Lori wake up," Cassandra said giving her roommate a shake.

"Stop that fluffy, blue tortoise-man that tickles," Lori giggled obviously having one of her *ahem* 'weirder' dreams. Cassandra sighed, "I'll be in the bathroom, if you need me," "Hey Johnny Depp that's my bra!," Lori mumbled leading Cassandra to assume that it was in fact one of Lori's perverted weird dreams, and that she better get out quick before the Lori started snogging the pillow.

Cassandra hurried down the stairs, going down two at a time. There was only 3 bathrooms in the home, this wasn't too bad until you considered the 12 other girls in the orphanage, ranging from the ages of 10 to 17. Having a hot shower in the morning at St Augusta's was like an honest politician, very hard to come by. Miraculously the bathroom was empty. Closing the door behind her she embraced the only peace and quiet she'd get that day. She got undressed and hopped in the shower, letting the warm water wash away all the fears of the night before...

"OI! Hurry up slowcoach, some of us needs a shower as well," someone shouted outside of the bathroom, shattering Cassandra's day dream. Sighing, she got out of the shower, put on her clothes and brushed her teeth super quick. Quickly she allowed herself a glance in the mirror to check her appearance. Her untameable, thick black curls hung in clouds around her face, making her small heart shaped face seem even smaller and paler.

The banging on the door had become louder and more frequent. "Alright, alright calm down," she said. As she opened the door she was practically dragged out and thrust against the wall by the stampede of girls. Most of them ignored her, one of them joked "We thought you'd drowned in there, you was takin' so long".

"How unfortunate she didn't," a voice drawled behind her. Cassandra didn't have to turn around to see who it was. Monique Williams, the queen bee of St Augusta's. She was one of the most horrible, bitchiest, self-centred, manipulative girls Cassandra had the misfortune to meet. "It would get rid of that awful smell, and we wouldn't have to deal with her ugly face every day," Monique added. Her two cronies, Megan and Cara began cackling at her 'hilarious' insult. Clenching her fists together Cassandra began to count to one hundred like her councillor said to calm herself down. One, two, three...

"I mean it's such a freak, nobody would miss it," Monique carried on talking as if Cassandra couldn't hear her. Seven, eight, nine... Insults poured from her mouth, a torrent of verbal vomit. Monique had always been like this, she had been gifted with a razor sharp tongue and a gift for spotting peoples weaknesses. A deadly combination. She was pretty, popular, and tough. An enemy you did not want.

"I mean her parents didn't even want her, her mum was probably a crack whore," more cackling. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... Cassandra hands where clenched so tight her fingernails bit into her palms.

"Betcha her dad probably doesn't even know she exists, bet her mother didn't even know who the dad was. Hey, Cas you gonna grow up to be like your mum?"

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen... Nobody messed with Monique. EVER.

"Cas, Cas, Caaaaasss, "Monique trilled, "What are you deaf as well as a weird".

Well apart from Cassandra.

"You know Monique," she said, "You are the most self-centred, nasty, downright bitchiest person I've ever met. And I've had enough of your crap to last a life time."

Monique smirked "So, what you gonna do about I..." Monique didn't get to finish her sentence as she was tackled to the ground by Cassandra. She began punching Monique and was gaining the upper hand, but Monique soon got over the initial shock and retaliated. She might be the Queen Bee, but she wasn't a pansy. Both of girls fought like wildcats; kicking, scratching, hitting, hair-pulling, screaming and swearing, A LOT of swearing.

It wasn't till they were prised apart by the Sister Francis and Sister Alice, that they stopped. Cassandra looked at the carnage there fight had caused. There was a definite crack in the plaster of the wall, and a poor chair that had gotten in the way of the fight was broken into splinters. The room wasn't the only thing that had been damaged, Monique had a black eye and a grazed chin, Cassandra nose was bleeding and she had a scratch down her cheek. The nuns didn't stop to mop them up, these girls didn't need sympathy. They needed punishing.

The girls were carted off to the Mother Superiors office. 'The Mother', was what all the girls called her, a morbidly obese nun, with rather Victorian attitude to "How young ladies behave". Monique and Cassandra stood in front of her desk as she finished her second morning pie. Monique was putting on her best 'ashamed, poor, little pretty girl face', biting her hair and sniffing, Cassandra thought she even saw a tear but it was probably a trick of the light. Cassandra however remained defiant, staring into space with cold, tearless eyes. Her mouth was a thin stubborn line. Her forehead practically had the sign "DOES NOT TAKE ANY OF YOUR SHIT" painted on it.

"No you gels have been very bad and troublemakers must be punished. How can you behave like a bunch of hoodlums, especially in front of the younger gels. Why when I was your age blah, blah blah-blah blah blah..." The Mother droned on and on. Cassandra knew the speech; she'd been on the receiving end of it to many times to count. She looked out though the window, the sky was clear blue, no clouds where in sight, some of the younger girls where playing a game of netball, while others sat underneath the old willow tree gossiping.

Cassandra loved that willow tree; it was hundreds of years old, provided cool shade in the summer and was brilliant for climbing. The only drawback was the fact it was so close to the house, when it was windy the branches would play a staccato tune against the windows. In fact she could swear she heard it now, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat. But that was impossible the weatherman had said there wouldn't be any winds all week and the neighbours weather vane was still. There it was again, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, curious she peered out the window, all of the other girls where outside away from the house so they couldn't be making the sound, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat. Cassandra swore it was getting louder, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, and faster, rat-a-tat, ratatat, ratatatratatat. Straining her ears she swore she heard her voice now, csssss-an-a, csssss-and-ra, cass-an-dra, _Cass-an-dra. _Cas felt her blood run cold, it was trick just her ears deceiving her, but she could hear it now loud and clear as if the owner of the voice was standing next to her. _Cassandra_, _Cassandra_, _Cassandra, Cassandra, _the voice was as sweet and clear as a bell yet...it seemed to be mocking her. _Cassandra, Cassandra, CASSANDRA, CASSANDRAAAAAA..._

"CASSANDRA!"the Mother yelled, breaking the spell. Cassandra gave a small sigh of relief; never had she'd been happier to be shouted at. Unfortunately her joy did not last long, The Mother was furious. "You insolent gel! Daydreaming weren't you! You're in enough disgrace as it is!" the Mother's face was so close to Cassandra's; Cassandra felt spittle speckling her cheeks. "There right about you!" The Mother continued, "You're different, the wrong different, a FREAK! A PARENTLESS FREAK! YOU ARE NOTHING! A WASTE OF SPACE AND AIR, WHICH IS ALL YOU'LL EVER BE!" The Mother sat down, she seemed slightly shell shocked and breathing in short puffs as if her outburst had exhausted her. "Heh hmm, Sister Francis take Monique and Cassandra up to their rooms, I'll deal with them later," she said reverting back to her normal girlish voice.

Suddenly Cassandra was filled with anger and pure HATE towards The Mother. Not the red, hot, primal anger she had felt towards Monique. This was different, it flowed though her cold and unnatural. This anger was fierce and hateful; it had been stored inside Cassandra for such a long time, growing, feeding of her suffering and pain. And she was going to let it out.

"No," Cassandra whispered.

"Pardon?" The Mother looked at Cassandra with shocked expression.

"No," this time she said it louder this time. She stared straight into The Mother's small, piggy eyes, "No," she said again, her voice calm, quite an ominous, "No, I won't. I won't go up to my room. I'm not going to take any orders from you or anyone else here." She laughed at The Mothers shocked expression.

"I've had enough of this place, the dingy rooms, the disgusting food, and my _roommates._" She shot a glare a Monique, "But most of all I've had enough of _you. _You make out you're so righteous and kind, but you're a bully, a bitch, you're lonely and you love other peoples pain. In short, you're a pig,"

The Mother stared at Cassandra gobsmacked, her 5 chins jiggling with indignation. Cassandra continued "A big fat..."

The Mother's face had now turned an interesting shade of pink, "gargantuan, greedy, disgusting..."

Cassandra was on a roll, The Mother was now so frightened she was hunched over to make herself seem smaller, "snivelling, horrible PIG!" Cassandra yelled triumphantly.

The mother sniffled; wiping her snout with her trotter, then gave a confused "Oink?" Cass heard Monique give a gasp and saw Sister Francis fall into a dead faint. For in front of them where The Mother had been sitting, wearing her habit and gown, was a pink, vastly overweight, slightly confused PIG.


End file.
